


I'd Be Home With You

by sunrisenpoet



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Fluff, M!Apprentice - Freeform, M/M, Male Apprentice (The Arcana)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 07:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunrisenpoet/pseuds/sunrisenpoet
Summary: Muriel considers for a moment, and he thinks ‘when we get home’ is a nonsensical phrase if only because while he doesn’t feel comfortable everywhere, if he’s with Anatole he’s at home.





	I'd Be Home With You

He dances around their home, and cleans when he’s sad. He speaks to Inanna about his day, tapping the side of his nose when he’s about to make some acerbic comment about someone that will make Muriel smile whether he wants or not. He’s a constant surprise, not one he can avoid or cares to avoid.

It’s not like Anatole left him much choice either — at least figuratively speaking, because Anatole always _asks_. He decided he liked Muriel and that was the end of the matter, driving him away was impossible; again, not that Muriel actually wanted him to leave or to drive him away, but some habits are hard to break. Yet, Anatole is like sunlight: he makes everything bright, he makes everything new. 

Anatole is also incredibly weird in his city-boy habits, ways, mannerisms and form of dress. When they were trailing after Morga, Muriel thought at first that Anatole’s clothing choices were simply out of lack of owning clothes better suited for a trek, or hunting, or living of the land. _Then_ he realised that Anatole did enjoy hiking and nature, even if his nature-smarts left something to be desired beyond anything that didn’t have to do with magic. It was that he _dressed_ like that for it. 

Trust Anatole to make the impossible work, twice. 

The forest is sunny and inviting that day. They decided to have a picnic by a lake, a date. 

Muriel never thought he’d be having _dates_ with anyone, or that he’d be easily talked into one, but Anatole’s different. He’s smart, compassionate and so incredibly important. He’s persistent and dedicated, and watching him read on a rock as he basks in the sun, sometimes scribbling notes in the margins of his books with a concentrated frown makes Muriel want to fall in love with him all over again.

He catches him staring, and smiles back at him: a wide smile that makes the corners of his eye crinkle, and in his ridiculous slim fitting pants, and his fancy leather boots, and his fitted sleeveless turtle-neck, and the sunlight making his hair somehow even brighter, he looks radiant, beautiful, at ease. 

“You know,” he says, “I found out there’s a legend from where half of my family is supposed to be that says their people had blonde hair at first, but the sun turned it black.”

That’s another thing he’s discovered about Anatole: the more comfortable he is with you, the more he trusts you, the closer you are to him, the more he _talks_. He works in extremes: he’s either fairly quiet, or he rants and monologues incessantly about what’s occupying his mind. Unlike with other people speaking, Muriel loves hearing him talk. There’s something soft in his voice, but also very decided, and it’s deeper than a first glance at him would suggest. 

He thinks his voice might be one of his favourite things about him.

“And you went and made it blonde again,” Muriel says, bantering back at him. He goes stand by Anatole and his rock, and smiles amusedly. “You’re taller than me now,” he tells him.

“Oh, I suppose I am,” Anatole says nonchalantly. “It’s a perfect height to do _this_.”

He runs his fingers through Muriel’s hair, before leaning forward so he can kiss him. Muriel leans into his touch and his lips are so incredibly soft, so incredibly warm. He doesn’t think he’ll get used to it, at all, ever. Not only the kissing, the touching, the sharing a bed and a life, but the wholeness of Anatole too. What did he do to deserve someone like him? Nothing, not really. But like Anatole once said to him, just like where no offence is meant, none should be taken (usually), what is freely given, in full awareness of it being offered, is not unfair towards the giver. 

Muriel loses track of how they end up making out on top of the rock Anatole was reading on, but they end up there all the same.

“We’re not—” Muriel stammers, “not that I’m opposed but we’re not doing—“

“Oh no,” Anatole says with a little amused huff. “As privacy goes, we are fairly alone, I think Inanna might be exploring on herself… but I would rather not.”

Muriel kisses his cheek. “We’re not alone if the trees are there.”

“I have not idea how to take that,” Anatole laughs. “But maybe when we get home, how does that sound for a plan?”

Muriel considers for a moment, and he thinks ‘when we get home’ is a nonsensical phrase if only because while he doesn’t feel comfortable everywhere, if he’s with Anatole he’s at home.

Still, he replies: “Yes, yes I would like that.” 

He kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Have this cute fluff fic because Muriel is good for the soul. 
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://sunrisenfool.tumblr.com). There's more Anatole there too.
> 
> Thanks for reading. The title is from In A Week because Hozier.


End file.
